Her Dream
by Herascat
Summary: Reposted and edited What could have been between the Queen and her Huntsman.


Disclaimer: I don't own The 10th Kingdom or any of the characters here. I'm reposting this in two separate stories, this one is the first. Let me know what you think.

The whole situation was too familiar; that terrible sense of déja-vu permeated her mind. Then it dawned on her, this had been the dream she had woken up from in a cold sweat, with only snippets still in her memory as she rose. The Wolf and the Huntsman fought for control of the crossbow. Rolling around on the ballroom table, like animals. She could even hear growls coming from their direction something she hadn't expected from the Huntsman.

Like in her dream, she once again gripped her fingers tightly around Virginia's throat. She could see pain and desperation blatantly etched on her daughter's face. Virginia's eyes searched for a way out, finally resting on her mother's hair, reaching for the comb. "I don't think so." And before Virginia could react, a backhand knocked her to the floor. The Queen grabbed the comb out of her hair and as the locks cascaded over her features she brought the comb to her daughter's bruised neck, slicing into the delicate skin.

"Did you think I wouldn't do it my darling daughter?" She smiled down as the light quickly faded from Virginia's eyes. She couldn't bring herself to feel anything for the dead woman lying at her feet. She tucked the comb back into the hair she rapidly retwisted.

She turned, looking over to the Huntsman. In seconds the arrow would come crashing through the skylight again, she just knew it. She glanced up at the skylight as she ran towards the Huntsman, pushing him out of harms way. A very surprised Wolf watched as the Queen's momentum hurtled her and the Huntsman to the ground. It was only when the Queen glanced skyward again that he knew his fate. He could do nothing but watch as the arrow crashed back through the glass and into his heart.

The Huntsman stood quickly and looked about the room, "My Queen, we must leave now." He held his hand out to help her up from the sprawled state she was in.

"Why?" She asked, confused and still slightly dazed from the fall.

"The Wolf was on their side," he gestured towards Virginia's body, "it wasn't poison in the drinks. These people aren't dead; we need to get to safety."

As realization sunk in she quickly reached for his hand. He helped her to her feet. "But my mirrors…" She started to walk towards the rooms a daze still blending with the dire reality of their situation.

"We don't have time my lady." He answered as he grabbed for her hand, once again pulling for her to follow. They sprinted across the ballroom floor hand in hand, jumping over bodies. The stairs passed below their forms two at a time and they made it to the top of the grand staircase when the first stirs of the waking were heard. They were together inside the ever-waiting carriage when the screaming started.

"Where are we going to go?" The Queen asked, out of breath. She sat back as she tried to regain her composure, resting her head against the carriage wall with an exhausted sigh.

The Huntsman stole a glance down her body when she had closed her eyes. "I told our driver to take us to the edge of the forest. The King's men will never find us there."

The Queen rapped her head against the carriage wall, "Why does it always go so wrong, I don't understand how I can never succeed."

The Huntsman placed his bare hand on her gloved one. "I think that we succeeded in some respect, we're both alive." His thumb's movement sent shivers down her back as the callused flesh stroked silk covered fingers. "I got the distinct impression that we weren't supposed to make it."

She opened her eyes to look into his face and although he never voiced the question, she knew that he deserved an explanation. "I had a dream last night that I woke up from and couldn't remember. I only remembered the sense of loss and the apprehension. When I saw Wolf attack you, it suddenly came back to me." It almost looked for a moment like she was going to cry, but after a shifting the direction of her gaze and taking a deep breath she continued.

"You and the Wolf fought for control of the crossbow, it shot into the air. Then it came back down, plunging into your heart. I saw you die and then Virginia sliced the poison comb across my neck." Her hand automatically went the spot her dream had indicated. In a more thoughtful voice she added. "She seemed to mourn my loss, despite the fact that I have never had any qualms about killing her." Her openness seemed to startle the Huntsman for a moment; this was not their normal form of banter. He stayed silent for a moment.

"I couldn't see you die again." She whispered.

Her blatant version of events that could have been didn't match up with the dialogue they usually shared and her admission of caring drew them far past any line that she had drawn to separated them. The Huntsman was driven to speak even if he didn't know the right words to say to her yet, "My lady, I know you must be exhausted after our ordeal, but we are going to have to move through the forest quickly. I think you should be well aware of that fact before we continue. If you want to cut our losses now, I understand. And know that whatever decision you make, I will stand by you until the end."

The Queen fought the upward tug at the corner of her mouth and nodded to the Huntsman, "I may be slightly exhausted, but I will not give up. I've struggled too much to ever give in without a fight." She once again leaned her head against the back of the carriage. Perhaps he could say the right words to her later. Her lips pursed when she admitted to herself that she wanted him to want her. She let her eyes slip closed.

It wasn't until several minutes later that either of them spoke. As the movement around them ceased, the Queen quickly stood, "I'll take care of the driver, you scout out where we are and where we need to go." She exited the door first moving toward the front of the vehicle. He moved more slowly, already knowing the details of their planned escape from the last glance he had made out the open window.

A slight gurgling sound came from the driver's direction as he finally disembarked. The Queen stepped to his side, wiping the blade of her dagger on a scrap of cloth and quickly sliding it back into its sheath. His gaze met hers as he motioned for her to follow him silently into the woods. The Queen followed for a moment before retreating back to the carriage. She motioned the Huntsman to stay silent as she went to the horses and pulled the blade once again from its sheath.

He marveled at her feline grace as she pricked the horse in the backside. Knowing she would never willingly hurt an innocent animal, the Huntsman chuckled at the runaway carriage. She smiled back at him and he offered her commendations on muddying their trail a bit more, "As long as the body doesn't fall off any time soon, that should have bought us another hour. But really we must go."

They made good progress for several miles before the Queen started to lag behind. The Huntsman slowed to accommodate their new pace, knowing how exhausted she must be, and knowing that they were close to safety now. His thoughts were so focused on the future that he almost didn't turn when he heard the dull thud behind him. He almost didn't turn in time to see his lady collapse to the soft forest floor.

The primitive sound of terror that escaped his lips almost frightened the stoic Huntsman as he raced back to the Queen. And as he knelt in front of her the gentle breaths she was drawing almost made him weep in relief. He tenderly lifted her into his arms, cradling her head next to his in order to hear her breathe as he walked the remaining distance to his tree.

As he opened the secret entrance to his home, the Queen's breath hitched and he paused. She seemed to fall back into her normal breaths as he decided to ascend the stairs. But as he walked he sensed a change in her status, he thought perhaps she was waking. His thought was confirmed as her body tensed and her arms snaked around his neck, allowing her nose to nestle into the crook of his neck. His breathing grew ragged as she moved that same nose to nuzzle the sensitive flesh right under his ear. He moved through the upper quarters of his house, until he reached the bedroom. Pushing through the drapes that acted as a door, he moved to lay her on the bed.

The Queen refused to let go of her Huntsman, and instead of letting him pull away from her prone form, she latched her mouth onto his earlobe. Gently sucking and licking the sensitive skin she felt his arms tighten around her and heard him moan the name that so few knew, the only name she had ever gone by in this world.

"Silva," He let his body move to embrace hers. He fell to the bed atop her as her lithe legs moved to embrace his hips. As her center came in contact with his groin he stiffened and groaned. Their lips finally parted when the need for oxygen and skin against skin contact grew unbearable.

He trailed his lips and tongue down her neck, and followed the path his hands created by unbuttoning her white top. Her hands moved to reciprocate, but her fingers stilled as her bare breasts bore an onslaught of her Huntsman's sexual frustration. He pulled back only long enough to shed his very constricting shirt and pants and to earn a growl from his Queen. He moved once again to kiss her, both relishing their bare chests finally making contact. Her nipples became even more pebbled with arousal.

As their tongues entwined, Silva's fingers played with the fine hair trailing down the Huntsman's back, and his hands moved from her breasts to her hips. He quickly discarded her skirt, finding no undergarments he laughed.

She blushed at his discovery, "You can't blame a girl for hoping."

"You better have been hoping for this," he whispered fiercely plunging into her hot, slick sheath. The power of their coupling stilled them for a moment before he began thrusting. She writhed with him, meeting him thrust for thrust as a tension coiled in her belly.

His movements grew more erratic as they came close to completion. With one last thrust he seated himself to the hilt.

"Dasos!" She cried her lovers name as blackness seeped into her vision.

Virginia and Tony Looked down on the woman they had known as Christine and watched as she breathed her last word and the hand she had held to her lovers imaginary face fell to the ground. Virginia mourned her mother's death, but life went on especially when she had a cub to be born soon.


End file.
